Inked
by DrarryandChill
Summary: It started with a tattoo Sirius didn't want to talk about, and spiraled from there. Cute, dumb boys being cute and dumb. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

He got it done the summer before he turned 16, in a smoky shop in East London. The owner blew whiskey breath in his face, grabbed his ass, and promised not to ask questions. Later, when the tattoo was done and the grabbing wasn't, Sirius broke his nose.

That night, Sirius Black ran away from home. It wasn't because of the tattoo, not really. It was bound to happen eventually. His bag had been packed forever. There were a million reasons to go, he was just waiting for one of them to be enough. But, while it wasn't because of the tattoo, and even though his bag had been packed forever, The moment his father pressed a lit cigar into his newly tattooed shoulder blade just happen to be the reason that made him finally pick it up. The words "Filth loving faggot" ran through his head the whole flight to the Potters'.

 _Filth Loving._ It made his blood boil. Faggot didn't bother him anymore. He'd been called faggot by his father since the day he turned 9 and told his father he didn't want to be engaged to Narcissa Malfoy. At this point, it was the most familiar term of endearment the elder Black seemed to express. He could handle faggot. And he could handle bitch, and squib, and muggle-loving-no-good-piece-of-shit-blood-traitor. Hell, being called filth in itself was almost cute.

But filth _loving_ was something else entirely. Especially about Remus. He knew was Remus was, and he _wasn't_ filth. Even if sometimes he thought he was. On nights like this, when Remus looked in the mirror and saw nothing but the monster he could be, he and Sirius stole away to the astronomy tower and stared at the sky, because there are things we have to face head on, and the moon is one of them.

He knew to go to the Potters in the way he knew it was time to leave. It was instinctual, running to James. It had been that way since the moment they met; Sirius determined to outlive his family name, James determined to help him. When Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, it was James who reached out to him, and James who had been reaching out to him ever since. Every time Sirius had been picked on, bullied, shunned; Every time he was abused, starved, rejected. James, James, James. He was always there to fight Sirius' battles alongside him.

And the Potters were lovely. Moreover, they loved _him_. Euphemia was an angel, and doted on him constantly. She always seemed to have a sense for when he was coming, and on multiple occasions had met him with a hug and a steaming cup of chamomile tea, even before he'd had a chance to knock. On the record, Sirius only drank vodka and the blood of small children, but Euphie wasn't ever one to buy into his tough guy aesthetic. He had thought to call her out on it once, and then immediately thought against it. Because, patronizing or not, she was the only decent mother figure Sirius had. Besides, he supposed he really didn't hate the tea. Or even the extra cup she left on the balcony, just in case he couldn't sleep and decided to go out to look at the stars-which he pretty much always did.

Fleamont was wonderful, of course, in the way any father figure who doesn't call you faggot or burn you with cigars may seem to someone with experience only in the former category. But more than Sirius' dangerously low expectations, he knew that Mr. Potter was a genuinely good man. He called Sirius "son", but only after expressly asking permission to do so. Every single time he did, something warm seeped through his stomach. THis was especially effective when Mr. Potter was referring to Sirius and James as a joint unit. "These are my sons," he'd tell the nice woman who visited from the ministry. Or once, when they'd been into some trouble involving both goblins and a copious amount of polyjuice potion-which truly should only be used on humans-when he'd looked at they sternly and said, "Now Sirius, James, your mother and I did not raise you to behave this way."

And while Sirius logically knew the Potters hadn't raised him, it was easy to forget most of the time. Because if it wasn't them, who then? Certainly not his own parents. They punished him, sure, but only on the times he dared be a decent fucking person. Beyond that, all the really cared about was marrying him off to some pureblood wench and making him into a sperm donor for their future grandchildren. _Passing on the bloodline_. Miles above and away from the house where he grew up, Sirius snorted. That had alway been a bunch of bullshit, anyway. His parents weren't exactly the affectionate type, and he couldn't imagine they would be any more loving to potential grandchildren then they were to him. They just cared about preserving the precious line of blood, continuing the grand name of Black.

 _The grand name of Black. The legacy._ A legacy of genocide and prejudice. A legacy of bigotry, of hate, of pretentious parties. A legacy Sirius hated. A wave of nausea threatened to take him off his broom. His legacy. He took a deep breath, trying to force the thought away, leaning forward to speed up. But this wasn't something he could outrun, no matter how far he went. He could (and had) denounce every member of his family; he could remove himself from prejudice. He had. And there were people that accepted him, loved him, for it. People like the Potters, whose hilltop home was just coming into view in the distance. People who loved him for overcoming hate, for seeing the fault in his surroundings.

And that's why he really needed Remus right now. Because while the Potters were lovely and James was his best mate, and while they had always shown him nothing but kindness and love, in spite of where he came from, it was Remus, not them, that really understood what it meant. What it meant to struggle against blood. Because, as elitist as it sounded, Sirius grew up being told that blood was everything, that it made you who you are. And if that was true, Sirius would always be a monster. Only Remus knew what that felt like.

Thusly, even as Sirius approached the Potters' house, where he could now see a woman outlined against the doorway, two cups of tea in hand, he knew he wasn't where he needed to be. Because James helped him fight the outside, but it was Moony, only Moony, who knew how to beat the thing inside.

"Sirius! My God, you look awful! What happened?"

"I couldn't take it anymore, Euphie. I had to get out."

"Oh, Siri. I understand. Don't even start worrying about a thing. You can stay here as long as you like. Now come inside where it's warm, I made us some tea."

"That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Potter. But do you think I could just send a quick letter first? If the owl isn't already out, that is."

She seemed taken aback, but smiled.

"Of course. Take as long as you need."

Sirius needed Remus.


	2. Chapter 2

He needed Remus to leave. Right now. Two nights ago, when he'd sent the owl, contacting Remus had seemed like the logical next step. Moreover, he'd needed Remus at that moment; Needed him so desperately that he couldn't think straight until the owl was successfully out of sight, carrying a brief, urgent message to Moony.

Once his mind _did_ clear, however, some twenty minutes later, sitting across from Mrs. Potter, he cursed so loud he must have woke the neighbors (though not James, for nothing save the smell of food could wake him), and spilled hot chamomile tea all down his front, which only made him curse louder, which actually _did_ wake James, as well as Fremont, and the two family dogs.

"FUCKING HELL! HE CAN'T COME HERE," he'd shouted, ignoring the Potters' alarmed questions. He raced to the window, but even then he knew it was no use; the owl was gone. Remus would get the note, and he would come, even if Sirius said not to, because he was wonderful and caring and _should not come._

Not that Sirius could explain why. Not when Mr. And Mrs. Potter asked, not even when James asked. It was hard to explain, and he didn't even know where to start. His shoulder blades would be a good place to start, especially because the burn where his father had used him as an ashtray felt infected, but that certainly wasn't about to happen.

The thing was, he shouldn't have got the tattoo. It was impulsive, and he was drunk and angry, and he shouldn't have got it. Moreover, he certainly couldn't let anyone see it. Especially Remus. Because what would Remus think? What would anyone think? Even Sirius didn't know what it was supposed to mean.

The only option, Sirius had decided, was not to take off his shirt. Ever. Which was weird, but not so weird that anyone bothered to comment until Remus finally arrived, looking thoroughly disheveled and carrying a pillowcase. He rushed to Sirius as soon as the door opened, not bothering to say hi to James, or even greet the Potters (all of which he apologized excessively for later).

"Padfoot."

It came out like a sigh, as Remus' deceptively strong arms gripped a vice around Sirius' waist.

Sirius coughed awkwardly, feeling both relieved and profusely uncomfortable.

"Moony."

The shorter boy looked up at him, trying to catch his eyes.

Trying to make sure Sirius was okay.

But, for reasons even Sirius couldn't understand, the contact was too much, and he looked away, as Remus brushed his hands along the freshly sore skin. Sirius winced, and Remus' eyes narrowed dangerously, but he didn't say anything, obviously deciding to confront him about it later.

After another moment, Remus pulled away, greeted the Potters, and accepted the invitation to begin dinner with enthusiasm. An enthusiasm that, by the looks of him, had become quite common since Sirius had seen him last. Not that he was fat- quite the opposite, really, for Remus had the sort of leanness that never quite seems to go away. Only, he looked fuller somehow, healthier. He'd grown his hair out, too. And wore it now in a messy bun atop his head. He looked...Well, quite fit, to be perfectly honest. As they sat down to eat, Remus beside him, he thought to make a joke about Remus usurping him as the token pretty boy, but the words got stuck in his throat. He felt frustrated all of the sudden, at Remus, and James, and at Mrs. Potter for being so damned nice all the time. And mostly at himself, for being too much of a sissy to make a joke that two weeks ago would have come more natural than breathing. _It's just a tattoo,_ he chastised, _not a bloody love poem._ Yet, for all the deal he was making of it, it might as well have been.

So instead he went for the more obvious joke, and targeted Remus' admittedly strange luggage choice.

"A pillowcase, Moony? I didn't realize you were leading a double life as the star of Oliver. Pity really, I would have brought flowers."

James snorted beef stew up his nose, while Mrs. Potter looked on in stern amusement.

"So sorry, Padfoot, figured I'd be sensitive to the whole Pauper lifestyle when going to meet one."

This time even Euphie seemed to be having trouble keeping a straight face, and Sirius bit his cheek to keep from grinning.

"Besides," Remus answered casually,

"I didn't have any baggage on me at the time."

Sirius snorted.

"Moons, the linen closet is two feet from your bedroom door."

For some inexplicable reason, Remus' ears were now scarlet, with the same crawling up his neck.

"Well, as it so happens _Pads,_ I wasn't in my bedroom when I got your owl. I was in New York."

Remus replied haughtily, a sign that he was embarrassed.

"New York? Moony, why on earth would you be in-"

Realization dawned on him, and he looked up in horror.

"Remus, you were at that fancy pants summer program? For writers? The program you spent months gushing over?"

Redness spreading to his cheeks, Remus nodded.

"And you _left_?"

"Obviously."

"And WHY IN ALL OF MERLIN'S SAGGY Y FRONTS WOULD YOU DO THIS?"

Mrs. Potter said something mild about his language while Mr. Potter grinned, but Sirius looked at Remus with intense confusion; Remus peered back at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"You told me you needed me," He said simply, and returned back to his plate.

"Mrs. Potter, I must say I adore this souffle? Is that ginger I taste?"

And that, apparently, was that.


	3. Chapter 3

Except, of course, that it wasn't. Sirius excused himself shortly after dinner, claiming he could hardly keep his eyes open. For the next few days, he did his best to avoid Remus, always coming up with an excuse not to be alone with him. A week later, however, his luck ran out. He had just claimed illness to get out of a cinema trip, hoping to get a few hours alone. Or so he'd thought. As Sirius watched the car pull out of the drive from James' window, the door opened, and in stepped the last person Sirius would have wanted to.

"Moons! Why aren't you at the cinema?"

Remus shrugged.

"I'm in the middle of a really exciting book."

"Nice."

"Also I was hoping to know what the fuck is wrong."

 _Shit._

"What do you mean, Moony?"

Remus looked at him, and Sirius knew he was done for. When Remus looked at you like that, it wasn't hard to imagine him as the beast he became once a month.

"Sirius, you've been ignoring me since I got here. I came because you asked me to. I left me summer program, because _you_ asked me to. Now what the _fuck_ is your problem?"

Sirius felt trapped. He saw no way out.

"Siri, what did I do?" Remus' voice was pained and vulnerable now,

"I'm sorry, just tell me what it was."

Sirius felt as if someone had stabbed him in the ribs. He was an awful person. He couldn't let Moony, his Moony, feel like this.

"Moons, it isn't you."

Remus' voice became loud and agitated again.

"Then what the _fuck_ was it?"

Sirius took a deep breath.

"My father called me a filth loving faggot, Moons."

Remus' hand on the windowsill whitened at the knuckles.

"THAT BASTARD." He shouted, taking a few staggered breaths to regain control.

"Sirius, he's an ass. But he doesn't know you. What he's saying isn't true."

Sirius turned away, unable to face his friend as he responded.

"Yes it is."

"Sirius don't let him make you think-"

"It isn't about him. I'm- Moony, I'm gay."

There was a silence, and Sirius hung his head. Being gay wasn't a big deal in the Wizarding World, but it was among best mates of the same gender whom you'd been seeing naked since you were 11. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Sirius, is that what this is about? You don't think we'd be okay with that? You didn't think _I, the werewolf,_ would be okay with you liking blokes? Sirius! Look at me."

He grabbed Sirius by both shoulders, turned him around, and looked him dead in the eye.

"You are being completely ridiculous."

Sirius smiled, relief washing over him. He wasn't going to lose Moony after all.

"Now let me see your back."

And there goes that.

"I'd rather not, if that's all right by you."

"It isn't."

"Bollocks for you then."

"Sirius! The other day, when I touched it, you looked like it hurt. What's the matter?"

"My... Dad didn't have an ashtray on hand, I guess."

Remus got very, very quiet.

"Moons?"

"Take it off. Now."

His voice was low and angry.

Sirius never said no when he was like this.

But there's a first time for everything. Moony might be okay with Sirius being gay, but getting a gay tattoo for him, that even Sirius couldn't explain, that was something different entirely. He said no, turned on his heels, and left the room. Remus didn't come after him. For the first time, Sirius sat on the roof alone and looked at the stars. He looked at the moon.


	4. Chapter 4

James saw the tattoo first. Sirius was in the shower, and James came in to piss. It wasn't an unusual circumstance, after so many years of friendship.

"Right so I have a question Pads," he began as he came in.

"Since you're bent (Sirius had told him as soon as he got back from the cinema that night) Have you ever fancied any of us? I mean you had to have, right? We're the fittest blokes in our year. Who was it? I've been thinking, and I think it must have been Peter because-"

James gasped.

"Well Pads, I think i just answered my own question."

Sirius, who'd been ignoring James' rant, turned at that, and realized too late the position he'd been standing in. A position that just so happened to show...

"A tattoo Pads, really? What- I mean, when- WHAT?"

 _Shit_

"It isn't a big deal," he tried to say.

Instead, what came out was, "You can't tell Remus."

James sat looking at Sirius for a few more moments, gaping.

"It doesn't mean anything," Sirius tried.

James looked at him in disbelief.

'It's just a tattoo, right?"

James looked at him for a long minute, searching.

"Yeah," he finally said, "I guess so."

Then he zipped his pants and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**_/Author's note: AHHHHH I'm sorry this is so late! School has been super busy lately but I promise to make this a priority from now on. What do you guys think?_**

 ** _Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter it would be gayer/_**

It didn't seem like things were ever going to get better, but then it did. It happened the full moon right before term started. It was a particularly bad one. They found a good place, near the marsh, away from houses or roads.

By this time, the silence between Remus and Sirius had become unbearable. They didn't talk at dinner, or passing in the hall; every night they went to bed without a word. It was suffocating. Sirius hardly slept. He knew why Remus was mad, knew that if he would just agree to pull up his shirt, if he just apologized for snapping, that everything would go back to normal. But he couldn't. Not when the skin, still sore from the needles and the cigar, below his shoulders reminded him that nothing could ever be that simple again.

He needed someone to talk to, but James asked questions that Sirius did not know how to answer, questions about feelings and shit that he refused to think about. The only person who had ever been able to help Sirius think about things like this wasn't speaking to him. He needed him. He needed him like air. He needed Moony, and he was too afraid to understand how.

When the full moon came, and they were camped out at the marsh, waiting for the moment Remus turned, Sirius looked at him pained. He was thin and pale, sickly, the way he always was around this time. And he was shaking, God, Sirius could never stand to watch him shake like that. Usually...

All of the sudden he was overcome with the absurdity of it all, and a hot anger slid through his stomach. He was being selfish. He was letting something as dumb and arbitrary as a tattoo decide how he treated his best mate, even at a time where Remus needed him the most. Instinctively, he marched over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Moons."

Remus stiffened.

There were a few moments of tense silence when neither seemed to breathe.

"Pads."

It was a sigh, as Remus relaxed into him, turning so his face was buried in Sirius' chest.

Sirius let out a ragged breath.

It wasn't perfect, but it felt like forgiveness.

It felt like coming home.

And they sat here like that for a few minutes, until the moon appeared from behind the trees, and Remus began to change. It wasn't like one of those old movies at all. It was so much worse. It was like watching someone being ripped apart from the inside. First came his eyes. They emptied, darkening, the pupils shrinking; they were the first piece of Remus that was lost in every transformation.

They were the things that really stole his humanity. Peter looked away- even James shrunk a little. But Sirius refused to break his gaze. He opened his mouth and repeated a mantra. The same phrase Remus had told him Sirius had discovered his own brother, his sweet brother, was selling out to Voldemort.

"You are bigger than the monster that lives inside you."

"You are bigger than the monster that lives inside you."

"You are bigger than the monster that lives inside you."

This is how it was every month. Even as his body shot off in strange, sharp angles and his spine arched, Sirius never looked away. Even once he was full transformed, and the other three boys took on their animagus forms. Even then, when he knew Remus was too far gone to understand him, he thought as hard as he could.

"You are bigger than the monster who lives inside you."

"You are bigger than the monster that lives inside you."

Then the next morning, when Remus awoke under a tree, a mass of aching limbs and self-loathing, it was Sirius who lay awake beside him, having miraculously conjured up a bar of chocolate for him.

"Morning, Moony."

Looking at him, Remus' eyes pooled with shame, and he turned away.

"How can you do it?" Remus demanded, shifting away.

"Remus-"

"Siri, how? How can you sit here like that and lay by me and run your hand

across my arm and get me _chocolate_ when you see what I am?"

"Because I see _who_ you are."

"That _is_ who I-"

Sirius reached up and grabbed the taller boy's chin,

Forcing him to turn.

" _Remus._ Look at me."

And they sat there is silence for a moment, both knowing what was coming and both knowing it would not be quite enough.

"You are bigger than the monster that lives inside you."

Remus looked at him, long and deep.

Searching.

Sirius' mouth filled with things he didn't want to leave it.

Neither breathed.

"Sorry to interrupt the love fest,"

came a sudden voice, "but I'm starving."

James peeked his head around the corner, where he'd been napping a little while down.

The daze was broken, and Sirius' face broke into

A wicked grin.

"Yeah, I'm so hungry I could eat a wolf"

...

"OUCH! Jamie, Moony is abusing me."

"Don't call me Jamie, you poofer."


	6. Chapter 6

Hogwarts was, well.

It was home. It had been since the moment Sirius had stepped through the doors at eleven. Here, no one really seemed to care if he was pureblood, except Regulus and his little gang. No one seemed to care if he was _enough,_ he didn't have to make anyone _proud_. At Hogwarts, Sirius could just... Be.

The Marauders had the dormitory to themselves that year. The other two boys, who were both really quiet and hardly impressionable, had graduated at the end of last term, and no incoming first year boys had been sorted into gryffindor, so it was just the four of them.

Sirius catapulted onto his bed, taking a big sniff. It smelled like home. Like clean sheets and a warm fire crackling and the chocolate hidden under Remus's mattress. It smelled like the hand rolled joints Peter had smuggled in in his coat pocket, and the cinnamon gum James thought would catch Lily's attention, if she would only stand close enough.

Sirius figured it would happen eventually- James was a good guy, and he really loved her, even if he was a bit of a ponce about it. But that was not a conversation for tonight. The first night of term always belonged to them. They snuck up to the astronomy tower, for the last time. They smoked a celebratory blunt, for the last time. It all had a taste of finality to it, and it hung thick like the smoke circling their heads, encasing them with silence. This was their last year. It filled Sirius with a desperate kind of hunger, an aching. "There's a war going on," Peter said finally. "Sure is, Pete." James took a hit, as if it would make the reality of his words sweeter.

Peter inhaled, sharply.

"Jesus Christ man, I'm scared."

Remus spoke from beside him, taking a swig from his flask. Sirius suspected it was filled with vodka.

"We have your back Peter."

His voice was thick, slurring slightly.

The rest of the marauders drank to have fun. Remus drank to forget.

And usually Sirius would be the first to take it away from him- Because Moony's dad was an alcoholic and no way in fuck was he going to go that way as long as Sirius was around-

But it was the last first night they would ever have here, looking up at these stars, and Sirius

Kind of wanted to forget too.

"We have each other's backs."

"Forever?"

"Yeah Pete. Forever."


	7. Chapter 7

Sirius couldn't sleep that night, not high, not drunk, not at all. He sobered too quickly. The curtains around his bed formed walls in his mind, suffocating him. He needed out. He needed somewhere he could breath. He took James' cloak.

He usually went to the astronomy tower, but even that seemed tainted with the fact that they were leaving, that this would no longer be home. He walked straight out the front doors instead, out into the crisp Autumn night. The cool air beat his face gently, and everything was familiar, but not in a way that was comfortable.

He ran out onto the quidditch field, desperate for the sky. Desperate for air. It wasn't enough. He fell back against a tree, gasping, clutching at his chest. The scene in front of him blurred, the stars running into each other, as his eyes overflowed with tears.

A hand touched his shoulder lightly, and Sirius jumped. A warm body slid down beside him, and the hand found his.

" _Remus_ ," Sirius sobbed.

"Shhhh, Padfoot. I'm here. You're okay."

His voice was soft. Sirius clung to him. _Would this war take him away?_

" _This- this- is our - last first night."_

"I know."

" _Remi, this- this is my home."_

"I know, Sirius. That doesn't have to change."

" _This war,"_

His sobs came out ragged and dry now, tired.

" _What if it separates us? What if it kills us?"_

His voice was quiet now, broken.

" _What if it takes you away?"_

There was a rush of air as Remus sung forward, around to face Sirius. Their eyes met, and just like that it was late august, in the marsh again. There was that feeling, that burning, that _longing._ Sirius looked at Remus. His Remus. Chocolate eyes, skin just a shade lighter, the color of sunshine on long summer afternoons. Scars that littered his face like freckles- for these too Sirius found endearing. Everything about this boy was warm, and it drew the blood to Sirius' cheeks and the breath fast from his lips. There is a fierce sort of determination in those eyes, and it is right as Remus opens his mouth to speak, arms pinning Sirius against the tree, that the latter realized what was about to happen.

"Nothing will _ever_ take me away from you," Remus whispers,

His voice rough.

And crashes his lips against Sirius'.


	8. Chapter 8

_/Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the nice comments, I was really having a hard time getting motivated, and I'm sorry for the late update! I hope you love this chapter as much as I do and feel free to drop a comment about how you think it will end! Lots of Love!/_

And they are kissing. If Sirius hadn't known he loved Remus before, he would have known it now. But he had. He'd known, and he had felt utterly and completely foolish about it. He had ached with the knowing that Remus didn't love him back. How many nights had he imagine this? This aching in his low abdomen, the smell of Moony overwhelming his senses, the feeling of his soft body pressed tight against him. But no amount of imagining could do this scene justice.

Because this wasn't just anyone. It wasn't the muggle boy he'd met two summers before, a boy with hair the wrong shade of brown and skin that was painfully unmarred and untouched. They'd rutted up against each other; but only from behind. Never where they had to make eye contact. And when they came, they both whispered someone else's name under their breath, and went on their separate ways without looking back. That sex had made him feel dirty. The other boy's sweat seeped into his skin and stuck there, itching and festering. It took four showers to feel like his skin was his own again. That sex had felt _wrong,_ had made Sirius flood with shame and self loathing. It made his father easier to believe.

But this. This is Moony. _His_ Moony. And his face next to Sirius' was as familiar as Chamomile tea on cold nights; this boy- he smelled like the chocolate he kept under his mattress, and like the vodka Sirius probably shouldn't have let him drink, and ink from the book he'd fallen asleep reading, the parchment pressed against his cheek. He was everything that ever made Sirius feel at home.

And suddenly kissing isn't enough. Or, is it too much? Sirius can't think. Remus is still kissing him, winding his arms around Sirius' back, pulling him close. Sirius pulls away enough to whisper hoarsely.

" _Moons,"_

Remus sighs, blowing tantalizing breath across Sirius' face.

It's the kind of sigh that makes him want to forget about talking altogether.

"Yeah, Pads?"

His voice is dazed and low and _fuck._

It makes Sirius weak.

He needs space, though Merlin knows he doesn't want it.

He detaches himself from Remus's arms, watching the other boy's eyes widen as he does.

"Oh- Oh _SHITE_ SIRIUS I'M SO SORRY! I MUST SEEM LIKE _SUCH AN ASSHOLE_ -"

" _Remus!"_ Sirius finally interrupts, more than a little confused.

Remus stops, looking startled and painfully guilty.

"What are you talking about?"

Remus looks over to him flushed, and then bows his head.

"I'm sorry, Siri. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. You were upset, and it wasn't the time, and I'm really-"

"Oh _shut up,_ Moony."

He looked up then, startled.

"You- you don't want me to apologize?"

Sirius lets out a breathless laugh.

"No."

Remus looks relieved at that, but-

"Then why...?"

"Why what, Moons?"

Remus ducks his head, blushing.

"Why did you pull away?"

This was, in fact, something Sirius had been wondering himself. The problem, it seems, is with how perfect this whole moment is. How beautiful it feels to have Moony so close, to be able to _taste_ him. How it didn't feel like the beginning of a story, like Lily had told him it did. How it felt like the whole damn book. Like every line, every ebb and flow of poetry that Remus read out loud to him on fall nights, like every story he'd ever read had lead up to this moment. It feels like an ending. Like the most beautiful ending. It feels like an "ever after". And he has been waiting so long.

But Remus- had he been waiting? Had he been wanting? Does he- could he, want Sirius like Sirius wants him? He's overthinking and he knows it, but he can't help but wonder if Moony was even _gay._ He'd certainly never mentioned it, and he'd never showed much interest in... Well, anyone, to be frank. Dread pools in his stomach. Is that what this is? Was Moony just experimenting? Just _getting off_? And he wouldn't think Sirius would care, would he? Because Sirius was gay and they were friends and it was just _another warm body to grind against, right_? And all the sudden, this moment is not perfect. This moment, this moon, this boy; It's poison. This boy, he is familiar in everything. He is not just chamomile tea and vodka and parchment- he is the years of slip ups, the time Sirius had called him "half breed" in an argument, the decade it had taken to rid himself of his lineage, of the bigotry he was raised in. he knew all the bad parts of Sirius. He was there, he was almost _killed_ , when Sirius had led Snape into the Shrieking Shack. He hadn't spoken a word to Sirius for three months after and Sirius had well and truly thought he'd lost him. He deserved to lose him.

And even though that seemed behind them; even though Remus had forgiven him a thousand times; this boy knew everything that Sirius was ashamed of. And this boy could never love him. Not like that. And Sirius couldn't- he can't. He can't kiss him and know there will never be a next time. He can't wrap his fingers in that hair and know that it doesn't _mean_ anything. Because it does. Because

"It means something to me."

"What?"

Remus looks bewildered.

"I said," Sirius takes in a wavery breath, "it means something to me."

"Sirius I-"

"And it doesn't matter what you say now because even if it _feels_ like it matters to you, it doesn't. It can't. There is nothing about me that is worthy of being loved by you Remus. And there I've gone and fucking dropped it, haven't I? Well that's right Moony, I _love you_ , and it doesn't matter. _It. Doesn't. Fucking. Matter_. Because I am _never_ going to be good enough to kiss you and have it mean something."

Sirius is breathing heavy, trying to fight the tears that are building in his lashes.

"Sirius-"

"Moony, please."

The fire is gone from his voice.

"Please. Just stop. There is nothing you can say to make this any better. I'm pathetic."

" _Sirius._ You are not-"

" _OH REALLY MOONS? DO YOU WANT TO BET_?"

Before he can contemplate- or indeed, stop- what he is about to do, Sirius is struggling to pull his tee shirt over his head.

"Sirius, what are you doing, you absolute-"

Sirius didn't interrupt him this time.

There is a stifled gasp, as if Remus sucks all the oxygen out of the room.

" _Siri?"_

He whispers, disbelief seeping into his voice.

He reaches out, gingerly, as if to touch the tattoo.

Between Sirius' shoulder blades, the spot Remus had been forbidden to touch, were the phases of the Moon.

"Siri, I had- this is."

"Too much. I'm always a little too much."

Sirius pulls away before Remus can say anything more, and runs back to the castle, tears streaming down his face; leaving only his tee shirt and a confused werewolf in his wake.


	9. Chapter 9

"Pads!"

Sirius grumbles and pulls the blanket over his head.

"Pads you have to _wake up_! Moony is _gone._ "

Sirius sits up, the events of last night rushing back to him.

Remus had kissed him.

Remus had _kissed_ him, and Sirius had freaked out and ruined it.

' _I love you'_ he'd told him, shame filling his stomach.

 _For fucks sake_. Sirius groans.

Avoiding James' eye, he throws his feet off the edge of the bed.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

Rolling his eyes, James gestures over Remus' bed, which is, as previously stated, empty.

Sirius relaxes.

"James, you utter wanker. You woke me up for this?"

He begins to slide back under his covers.

"He probably just went to study in the library, Prongs."

"No Sirius-"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Black."

Sirius freezes in place. That voice never meant good things in their dormitory at 7 in the morning. Turning his head slowly towards the door, half hoping it will be Peter- he does a marvelous impression, that one-, Sirius' mind starts to race. Why would she be here? Where is Remus? Hadn't he come to bed after... After last night? Suddenly the fear that drowsiness had held at bay floods him, and he looks desperately into the bloodshot eyes of Minerva Mcgonagall.

"What's happened?"

His voice is cracked and broken and he hates it.

Because whatever happened, it's his fault.

It's his fault.

He left Remus out there.

The possibilities are running through his head a million miles a minute; every awful thing that could have happened to Remus between two in the morning and Minerva Mcgonagall standing in their doorway.

"Do not panic, Mr. Black" Mcgonagall's gaze softens.

"As far as we know, Mr. Lupin is safe."

A flash of agitation sweeps over Sirius. Now is not the time to be vague.

"What _do_ we know?" He practically hisses.

Giving him a sharp look, Mcgonagall strides across the room and presses a folded piece of parchment into his hand.

Professor-

Please Pardon my leaving- there is something I simply have to do, and it cannot wait. Please don't make a fuss. I am perfectly safe. Be back in a few days to face judgement.

-Remus J. Lupin

"What did you do?"

James asks him accusingly once McGonagall leaves.

Sirius groans, avoiding eye contact.

"What do you mean, what did _I_ do, James?"

James narrows his eyes.

"I'm blind not deaf, Pads. I heard you guys leave last night."  
Sirius suppresses a sigh, unsure of how to even begin to explain the previous night's events.

"Is this..." James hesitates, "Is this about the tattoo?"

Sirius hesitates, picking at the corner of his blanket.

"Yes. Well, kind of."

And so he tells the whole sordid story; how he had been anxious, had needed some air; how Remus had followed him outside, smelling of chocolate and parchment and _home_. How he'd kissed him; and how it had felt like the world was simultaneously coming together and falling apart. How it slowly became more about falling apart, about Remus experimenting, about how hard it was to be completely in _love_ with someone who doesn't- who couldn't ever- feel the same way. How her had pulled away; the way Remus' voice had sounded, husky and sweet and _pleading_ ; how Sirius had broke wide open after hearing it. How Sirius had told him he loved him, how he couldn't possibly feel the same thing.

He'd thought he was out of tears, but here he is, crying again, perched on the edge of James' bed. After he finishes his story, there is a moment of silence, broken only by his jagged breath. A hand touches his shoulder, and he turns from it. He doesn't want to see the look James must be giving him.

"I should have let it be enough. This is my fault."

The grip tightens, bruising Sirius' arm.

"Don't you dare."

James' voice is dangerously low, and Sirius looks at him wearily.

"You have to stop talking about yourself like that, Pads."

His eyes flash angrily.

"You deserve love, and you damn well know it."

Sirius is up and to the door before James can open his mouth again.

His breath is irregular.

"If I'm so worthy of love, _Prongs,_ why did he leave?"  
And the sound of the door slamming behind him masks whatever answer James may have had.


End file.
